


Humiliation

by PetrichorPlague



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gen, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 11:46:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13030395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetrichorPlague/pseuds/PetrichorPlague
Summary: Claude seems to have annoyed his master. Alois punishes Claude briefly, and the demon finds the act repulsive, yet surprising. The master leaves Claude in a state where he feels as if he is about to erupt. Gluttonous demon gets off of gluttonous thoughts.





	Humiliation

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written a fic in like 5 years, I feel like I've definitely changed though. Enjoy this wank fic.

“ _How many times must I have to say it?!_ ” The ring of the blonde’s voice bounces across the high ceiling in the dining room, his small fists balled up at his sides.

Claude politely places his arm across his chest, shutting his eyes briefly before responding, “I assure you, Your Highness, the tea has been prepared perfectly just like the countless times before.”

The master clicks his tongue in annoyance, perhaps at his own inability to come up with a fitting excuse quickly. “…A-and you think that makes it perfect? _Just because you’ve made it the same way?!_ ”

The demon’s eyes soften, it is almost as if they mocked his master’s innocent stumble over his words, what a failure at an attempt to berate him. He did not respond and only kept observing the boy.

“Why won’t you answer me? Say something, you. _.._ _marble statue_!”

The demon lets out a small huff of breath, an almost-chuckle at Alois, whose cheeks has begun to redden. He closes his eyes and sighs quietly to himself, countless times his master would become flustered and riled up, and while he found pleasure in seeing such disorder, he was beginning to grow weary of it.

The boy takes his butler’s attitude with a grain of salt, and in a sudden burst of rage, pushes hard against the larger man. Claude’s eyes snap open as he feels himself stumble, frowns at how disgraceful he must have looked, but pushes himself back up into a kneeling position. His eyes linger on his master’s polished shoes, before properly looking up at his master. The vision before him; chandelier peeking out from behind Alois’s head, blonde hairs glowing as if he were adorned with a halo. The man’s eyebrow raises a small fraction at the irony, for his master was far from that image.

Alois glares at him with dark eyes, “Bare your wrists, Claude.” Cold words sting as they are spoken.

The boy had managed to surprise him; he’ll give him that. He decides to play along with this childish game for now. Claude stares at Alois with certain intensity as he plucks off his gloves elegantly, folding them and placing them in his pocket, his pupils small and never wavering, before folding up his sleeves and offering his arms palms up to his master. His eyes don’t break contact, as they seem to search for an answer within the boys blue orbs. He lets out a scoff.

The blonde hesitates for a moment; he hadn’t expected that the demon would comply with such ease, but grabs his right arm roughly and brings his thin fingers down upon the pale exposed skin, granting the slightest grunt from Claude as he winces ever so slightly. The man feels his heartbeat quicken for a moment, to be followed with a seething heat at the repulsive humiliation of repeated strikes on his wrist.

As if sensing the demon’s raw hatred, Alois shoves arms laced with pink ribbons back at his butler, his striking hand balled up tightly from the harsh sting of Claude’s skin as he briskly ran out of the dining room in dissatisfaction.

The demon lets his arms slowly fall back to his sides, expression disconnected, eyes directed at the ground as he processes the dent he felt in his pride. He raises his right arm to stare at the rosy marks that, almost as brief as the breath of the demon within, had already begun to fade, and yet the burn still remains. Golden eyes narrow as he brings his arms up to his lips, breath licking the marks, prolonging the sensation of surprise.

As he kneels in the position Alois left him in, right at that moment as his pale skin just barely touches his snarl, blue veins pulse faster, breathing starts to become uneven, he could almost feel a tremble rising, but even without anyone to hide from, he tries so hard to suppress it, hating himself for it. Claude hadn’t imagined the human would be so daring, and while he hated the boy with his whole being at that humiliating moment, he feels a passion ignite for that unpredictability. He hunches his back ever so slightly, wanting to lean his lips onto his arm as his teeth grazes against the skin where Alois demanded his submission, trying to resist the urge to gnaw away at the ghost of the sensation that’s eliciting such a reaction. He draws a little blood and letting out a quiet gasp, freezes, before furrowing his brow and punching the ground in frustration, biting the inside of his lip.

His mind flashes back to the moment he felt the strikes on his arm, the moment that he had been forced to feel such a complex and confusing mix of passions, astonishment into hate, and hate into a passion that bore its way into his heart of stone. His core was bubbling, and as he shifts his legs he feels the tightness around his crotch. A trembling hand leaves his belt undone and unzips the restricting zipper, the tip of his member peeking out from the rim of his undergarments. A bead of precum threatens to slide down from the indent of his slit. Claude sharply breathes in a breath of air which turns into a shaky exhale as he takes his member in his hand, the hot pulsing conflicting with his frigid fingers. He stares at himself in disgust, tightening the grip on his member until the sticky bead quivers, and then he starts to stroke slowly. The demon snarled, he wished to taste the boy; wonders what a tangled mess of a meal he’d make. With such a conflicted, disagreeing, and damaged soul that still desperately clings onto his threads, consuming his master would certainly bring him vast pleasure that’d satisfy his never ending gluttony, even for just a moment. He could feel himself on the brink as the heat swells up his torso, breath quickens, ribcage rising and falling in an irregular pattern, and just as he staggers on the brink, he squeezes the base of his member to prevent himself from spilling. Cold air rushes into his lungs, only to be let out as fluttering hisses through grated teeth. Like with the pleasure of a well-seasoned meal, he decides the pleasure of release is for another time.

Claude shuts his eyes tight and remains in that position momentarily, letting out a controlled breath of air, wiping his face of any trace of expression. He cleans himself up swiftly, donning a shroud of detachment, and walks back into the hallway as if nothing had happened.

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda wanted to portray Claude in a darker way that I feel could be true to his character. Hope you liked it, and tell me what you thought about it!


End file.
